Nights With Parker (12 page)

“Nothing,” I lie with a smile, hopeful that he’ll let it go. His eyes never leave mine, and I think that he might press it for a minute. Instead, he releases a short sigh and releases his hold on me.

“All right. Why don’t we walk back?”

I nod, and he stands, grabbing my hand and pulling me up with him. Together, we walk back in the direction we came from, and I listen as he describes the work being done on the hotel and the progress that’s been made. Oliver doesn’t strike me as the talkative type. If I didn't know any better, I’d almost think he likes talking to me.

“Do you have your valet ticket?” he asks as we walk up to the hotel.

“What?”

“Your ticket. Do you have it?”

I nod, pulling the valet ticket out of my bag. He takes it from me and hands it off to the attendant.

“Send me a text when you get home, and let me know you’ve gotten there okay.” He reaches out to push some strands of hair behind my ear, and then he casually puts his hands in his pockets.

“You don’t want me to come back up to your room?”

He can hear the disbelief in my voice, and he smiles, actually smiles at me.

“Not tonight. How about I give you a call tomorrow?”

Who the hell is this man? Who is he, and where is Oliver? Is he asking me if he can call me? Do I have the option to say no? Would I say no? Who the fuck am I kidding?

“Okay.” I attempt to look down at the ground in order to avert his gaze, but he bends his head just in time to lock lips with me one more time. It’s equally as soft and slow as before, and I love it. I love every single second that he stands pressing me up against him and making my knees weak. I love it when he makes me feel like I’m his. Like I really belong to him—in heart and not just in circumstance with a clear end date in sight.

He pulls back at the sound of the valet attendant clearing his throat. I look at the street where my car is idling then back at him.

“Thanks for dinner and the ice cream,” I say like a teenager on a first date.

“My pleasure.”

He leads me to my car, eyeing it thoughtfully, and at his reaction, I’m mortified to be driving this hunk of junk.

“Make sure you text me when you get home,” he repeats. As if he’s letting me know that now that he’s seen my car, he’s actually worried about my safety.

“I will,” I respond, tossing my bag in the car and turning to him again. “Oliver?”

“Yes.”

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing a great job at the hotel,” I blurt out quickly before getting in my car and closing the door behind me. Closing him out of my world, at least for a little while. I can still see him out of my rearview mirror standing there and watching me drive away. I’d have hoped to feel better about my relationship with him after tonight, to have a clear understanding of the lines that we’ve thrown down between us, but the more time I spend with Oliver Parker, the more blurred those lines become.

OLIVER

I haven’t seen Riley in three days. At first, it was due to conflicts in my schedule, and tonight, she had to work at the restaurant. Normally, this wouldn’t bother me; normally, I wouldn’t care about not seeing a woman for a few days. Okay, that’s a bit of an understatement. Normally, I wouldn’t care about seeing a woman ever again. But with Riley … it bothers me. She’s become an exception to the norm, and I can’t say that I’m thrilled about that. Even more troubling is that I’d even go as far as to say that I’ve missed her. It’s becoming harder and harder to deny that I want her, even if it’s a terrible idea. I want her, and even if it’s only temporary, I have to make her mine.

The last night we spent time together was good for us. I think I was able to get her to lighten up around me, even if only a little bit. And I found myself opening up to her, another exception to add to the list. I don’t make it a habit of sharing the details of my life with the women I sleep with. Sharing makes things complicated, makes them think that I’m emotionally available, which is the farthest thing from the truth.

“Oliver, are you there?” My father’s gruff tone cuts through the ramblings in my mind.

“I’m here.”

“We’re going to need you in London in a month. We need to start work on that property as soon as possible.”

“I won’t be finished here in a month. There’s too much left to do.”

“Get it done. This is your job, but if it’s too much for you to handle, we’ll send Adam down to Savannah so that you can focus your energy on London.”

This pisses me off; my father hired Adam to oversee renovations of our smaller acquired properties. He’s an asshole and an idiot who would like nothing better than to take my job.

“That won’t be necessary.” I do not attempt to hide the annoyance in my voice.

“He’s eager, he’s hungry, and if he needs to, he’ll get the job done.”

“Yes. If you prefer mediocrity, he’d be an excellent choice.”

“Just get it done, Oliver. I’ll touch base with you next week,” he says before disconnecting the call. That’s how I know I’ve won this battle … for now. I’m not delusional enough to think that this victory isn’t short lived.

I glance at the time on my computer screen. It’s eleven thirty at night, and I’m still awake and dealing with my father’s bullshit. I shut the laptop down and strip out of my suit, take a quick shower, and change into a pair of worn-out sweats and a t-shirt. I set my alarm for the morning, and I’m just about to go to bed when my cell phone rings.

“Riley, are you okay?”

“Oliver. I … I’m sorry to bother you, but I didn’t really have anyone else to call.”

“What happened?”

“My car broke down. I called roadside assistance, but they’re saying it’s a busy night, and they won’t be able to make it out to me for more than an hour.”

“Tell me where you are. I’m coming to get you,” I tell her already on the move to grab my wallet and car keys. She gives me her location just as I’m hopping on the elevator. Luckily, I know where she is. I’ve been in that part of town before and know it’s not far.

“Baby, lock yourself in the car and don’t move. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Okay, I’ll … I’ll see you in a little while.”

“Don’t hang up. Stay on the phone with me,” I tell her, not wanting to let her sit there all alone. If someone approaches her car or something happens, I want to be able to hear it. “Tell me about your day. What’d you do today? How was work?”

She hesitates for a minute, but by the time I make it to my car and maneuver out of the parking lot, she’s telling me the events of her entire day.

“When I was walking past the bar, this guy grabbed my butt. I was so shocked that I dropped my whole tray of drinks all over the floor. I thought my manager’s head was going to explode.”

This last piece of information gets my attention.

“I’m sorry; did you just say a strange man actually put his hands on you?”

“Ugh, yeah. He was a creep. I deal with that from time to time, though. I just wasn’t expecting it this time.”

“This has happened before?”

“Not often but I’m at the bar all the time picking up people’s drink orders. If the crowd is rowdy, it can happen.”

“Did you tell your boss?”

“Yeah, but he was too pissed about the lost booze and broken glasses to care. He actually kept some of my tip money to cover the cost of replacing them.”

If it were possible for my head to explode, I think it might have after I listen to what she’s just said. I’ll analyze why I’m so angry another time, but for now, my focus is solely on her.

“You need a new job.”

“I need the money, so I can’t be picky.”

“Your mother is making double what she was making before, Riley.”

“I know, but we were barely making it before, Oliver. Now, we have a little bit of breathing room but not much. I still need to help her.”

“You need to go back to school. You need to worry about your own future.”

“What are you even saying? You have no idea what you’re talking about. It’s so easy for you to tell me what to do with my life when you’ve never had to worry about money.”

I’m pretty fucking close to losing my temper when I see her car parked just up the road.

“I see you. I’ll be right there,” I tell her then disconnect the call and throw my phone down in the center console. I’m pissed, but then I think about how cute she sounded going back at me and actually besting me in an argument, and it makes me smile.

Jesus, I don’t even recognize myself.

I pull up next to her, and she immediately gets out of her car and gets into mine. The first thing I notice as she puts her seat belt on is how diminutive her shorts are, and then I think about how I don’t like it that strange men are looking at and touching her.

“Thanks for coming,” she says, looking relieved to see me. That’s a first. She usually looks like she’s about to walk through fire when she’s anywhere near me.

“I’m glad you called,” I respond, pulling the car back onto the road. She offers a hesitant smile then turns to look out the window.

“Sorry for yelling at you on the phone,” she says quietly, as if she’s feeling shame. “I know you were just trying to help.”

“I overstepped. It’s fine,” I reply, trying to put her mind at ease. I focus on the road, still trying to get my temper under control and the mental image of some guy groping her out of my mind. We drive in silence for a few minutes until I make a right hand turn down the highway that leads to the hotel. She immediately snaps her head in my direction.

“Where are we going?”

“Home.”

She shakes her head in disagreement. “Home is the other way.”

“I’m taking you to the hotel.”

“I’d like to go home.”

“Why?” I ask, trying not to smile at her current state of fluster.

“For starters, because I’m not prepared to spend the night with you, and I don’t live alone. My mom will worry if I just don’t show up.”

“You’re an adult, Riley, so act like one. Call her and let her know you’re not coming home.”

I can sense it as her eyes bore into me, but I don’t care. It’s been too long since I’ve seen her, and I haven’t had her in even longer. One time was not nearly enough and, even if she’s not ready to have sex again, at the very least, I can have her sleeping next to me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her pick up her phone and tap out a message. Once she’s finished, she lets out an annoyed sigh and tosses it into her purse. She’s mad, and rather than leave her alone to let her stew in her anger, I try to engage her instead.

“My father told me that he was thinking of sending someone else down here to work on the hotel.”

This gets her attention for some reason, and I don’t even know why I’m sharing. Maybe it’s because, besides my mom, I have no one to talk to, and even though I know she agrees with me the majority of the time, she’s in a position where she can’t take sides. Riley is an unbiased party. She has no ties to my family, and with the exception of our arrangement, she has no ties to me, either.

“That’s good, right? That means he sees a lot needs to be done.”

Her naivety is cute; the fact that she wants to see the best in people even though common decency and humanity in this world are all but gone.

“No. He threatened to send someone down here to take my place and get the job done faster so I can move on to the next project.”

“Where is the next project?”

“London.”

I haven’t learned how to read her properly yet, but if I had to guess, I’d say she looks upset. Maybe even a little uneasy.

“I … I don’t understand. Why would he do that? Why would he try to make it seem like you’re not doing your job, like sending someone else here would get things done faster?”

“Because he’s an asshole. Adam might actually come down here and get the job done faster because he’d put a Band-Aid on the bigger problems, the work would be subpar, and it would end up costing us more in the long run.”

“Is it always like this?”

“Most of the time.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I can handle it.”

“So … you’re leaving then?” she asks quietly. I pull the car into a parking spot inside the hotel garage and turn my attention to her.

“No. I’m not leaving, Riley. It was an empty threat. I plan to be here until the job is done. You’re still stuck with me.”

She shakes her head once then locks her eyes on mine.

“That’s not why I asked.” Her voice is barely above a whisper now, and I imagine her asking me to stay. I imagine what it would be like to have someone want you that much that they would ask you to stay even though they know you won’t. She doesn’t ask, though, and I’m not sure if she ever would. I’m not sure if she would want me to, given the circumstances surrounding our relationship. I want to probe, ask her why she asked if I was leaving, but a part of me is scared to know the answer.

“Let’s get inside. It’s been a long day, and I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

I shut off the car and get out then walk around to the passenger side and open her door. Her chest brushes against my arm as she gets out, and I swear that slight touch alone turns me on. I shake it off, though, and walk with her silently through the garage and into the hotel. I slip her hand into mine and wonder what it would be like to have this every day. To be able to reach out and grab her hand whenever I wanted, what it would be like to come home to her every night. Maybe I’d just grow tired of her and start to treat her the way my father treats my mother. Or maybe I’d actually like coming home if she was there waiting for me.